Syd got in her car and shut the door. Now what? Instinct had brought her to Orange County to tell the Watermans their daughter was dead. Or, was it something else?
Someone else lives in Orange Country. In nearby Newport Beach not eight miles from here. Nick Wood.
Syd hadn’t actually thought it through when she took the DVD and video from Blake’s beach house. But she took them for a very specific reason. She took them because she didn’t want anyone else to see them until she’d finished what Alice had started.
Until she killed Nick Wood.
And now here Syd sat just a few miles from his house. Of course, he might not be home. He’d been in hiding since his son’s murder.
But if he’d seen the news, if he’d heard the Lady in Red was dead, then it would be safe for him to reappear, wouldn’t it?
Syd pulled out her cell phone, looked up Nick Wood’s number from her notes and dialed. It rang once.
Pick up, you sleazy bastard, Syd thought.
It rang again. Alice is dead, you coward, pick up.
Another ring. Shit, answer, God damn it.
Then, a click and “Hello?”
“Mr. Wood, hi, this is Detective Curtis from the LAPD. We’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I got the messages, but I’ve been so upset by Colin’s death I haven’t wanted to talk to anyone.”
Horseshit, Syd thought. You just watched the morning news, saw the Lady in Red is dead and have crawled out from under your rock. “Well,” Syd said. “Good news, the Lady in Red won’t be hurting anyone else.”
“I know, I just saw the news. Great work, Detective.”
I knew it, thought Syd. “Thank you. Mr. Wood, there are a few personal items of your son I’d like to return to you. I’ve just come from a meeting in Newport Beach and could be at your home in ten minutes or so; would it be all right if I dropped by?”
There was a longer-than-there-should-have-been pause; obviously Nick Wood was trying to figure the angles, trying to guess how much Syd knew and didn’t know. But he must’ve realized that refusing to see her would have seemed suspicious so he said, “Sure, I’m at 1412 King’s Road.” He gave Syd quick directions and hung up.
The house was a beautiful Mediterranean-style home sitting on an acre of land with an ocean view. Syd imagined an excited seventeen year-old Alice walking up the stone steps to the front door eleven years ago, fantasizing about her upcoming evening with her crush, Adam Devlin.
Oh, Alice…
Syd rang the doorbell. A few moments later Nick Wood opened the door. Though it was only seven-thirty in the morning, he was dressed; Bali loafers, khaki’s and another Polo shirt, light green this time. But Nick Wood looked a bit tired, a bit stressed.
“Come in, come in,” Nick said. Syd stepped into the entryway. The house was spectacular with hardwood floors, a thirty-foot spiral staircase, artwork draped walls and the soft tic/tock/tic/tock from an unseen Grandfather clock.
“You have a beautiful home,” Syd said.
“Thank you,” Nick said leading her down the hall and into the living room. It was surprisingly feminine, with a thick white carpet, giant tan couch that could seat twenty of your favorite people, two loveseats, a coffee table and vases of fresh cut flowers. Everything faced the picture window, of course, and the to-die-for view of the ocean.
Syd needed to know if they were alone, so asked, “It must take a lot of help to keep a house this big.”
“Not really,” Nick said. “It’s just me now. So I only have a housekeeper stop by three days a week.”
Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Syd assumed. Today was Thursday, excellent.
“Can I get you some coffee, Detective? Or a latte? I’ve got my own machine in the kitchen.”
A latte would take him longer to make. “A latte would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Be right back.” Nick Wood left.
Syd wanted to look around. She drifted out of the living room, down the paneled hallway to another open doorway.
The game room.
It all looked so familiar; the pool table sat in the middle of the room, the bar at the far end. There was a flat screen TV hanging on the wall that wasn’t there eleven years ago, otherwise, it looked the same. Syd walked in.
She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do. Unlike Alice, Syd had a lot to lose if she murdered Wood. It would be difficult to put a bullet in his brain, walk out the front door and escape prosecution.
A simple investigation would reveal she was in Orange County at the time of the murder, and there was a phone call on her cell phone to the victim only minutes before he was killed. So she had opportunity.
She was a cop with a gun. Means.
Ryan knew Syd felt sympathy for Alice. Motive.
Was Alice’s revenge really worth Syd’s own life?
“Oh, there you are,” Nick Wood said. He handed Syd her latte, then asked, annoyed, “What are you doing in here?”
“I wanted to see where it happened,” Syd said, watching his face for the reaction.
There was the slightest twitch from one of those bushy eyebrows. “Where what happened?”
“The gang rape of Alice Waterman.”
Nick Wood studied Syd. He’s wondering how much I know, thought Syd. The police killed Alice in Blake Hunter’s home, so Wood knows we’ve figured out the connection between Adam, Colin and Blake. What he doesn’t know is if we’ve seen the video, if we know about his involvement.
“That’s why we were calling you, by the way. We figured out something happened when your son was in high school; we heard you’d made a payoff to one of Colin’s classmates. But we didn’t know who was involved or what happened. If you’d returned our calls, you could have told us Blake Hunter was the third boy. We would have warned Mr. Hunter, sent officers to his house and he’d still be alive today.”
“I’m sorry, but I told you. I was so upset I didn’t talk to anyone the last couple of days. To tell you the truth, my doctor prescribed me some heavy-duty tranquilizers and I’ve basically been in bed. I haven’t called my office or checked my messages.”
“And what about when we first met you in the morgue? I’m sure you suspected Alice Waterman then. If you had been honest with us and told us about the high school rape, we could have saved Adam Devlin’s life, too.”
“I didn’t suspect Alice, then. I mean, it happened eleven years ago, why would I suspect her for killing Colin now?”
“Do you own a gun, Mr. Wood?”
The sudden change of direction threw Nick. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I’m guessing you do. And I’m guessing you’ve been holed up here, with that gun close by, waiting to see if the Lady in Red showed up to kill you.”
“Why would she have wanted to kill me?” he asked, but with failing conviction. He obviously knew where this conversation was going.
“I’ve seen the video, Mr. Wood. I assume you demanded the video from Blake Hunter eleven years ago when you agreed to buy Alice Waterman out. And Blake gave it to you. But deep down you were always afraid he kept a copy, weren’t you?”
Nick Wood played his last desperate card. “A video of what?”
“You raping an unconscious Alice Waterman right here on this pool table.”
The air seemed to come out of Nick Wood. He sagged against the bar. “Who else has seen the video?”
“Now that you mention it, only me.” Hope flickered in his eyes. “But, sorry, no, it’s not for sale.”